Eclipse
by sansbear
Summary: As her life changes, Ziva comes to term with her past, her present, and tries to figure out her future.
1. Orbit

**Author's Note**: I've written fanfic before but never for NCIS. After the recent episode, I figured I just might try this out. The title of this has nothing to do with Twilight but is inspired by the Robyn song of the same name. Check it out, it is fantastic.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

--Eclipse--

Ziva looked at the number written on a scrap of paper. She picked up the receiver and started to dial when Tony wandered into the pen.

"Hey," she said. He glanced at her but his eyes were vacant and his brow creased. She replaced the receiver and palmed the paper as she examined him.

He stepped behind his desk, absently picking up and putting down files and pink notes. "Uh, hey. That paperwork--"

"McGee and I are almost done. There is no need to worry," Ziva cut in.

Tony nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. He felt her eyes roaming over his profile at the same time his tongue loosened and his stomach unraveled. It was Ziva. His partner. His unusually perceptive, intuitive partner who read him faster and better than any human being he has ever come in contact with. So why then did the words refused to leave his lips? Why then was it so hard to hold her gaze for more than two seconds?

"Tony," she started and he shook his head.

"I can't...I can't talk about this with you."

Ziva pursed her lips. "You mean you cannot talk to me about her."

There was a note of emotion in her voice that Tony didn't want to classify. He caught her steady eyes and knew that he had messed up somewhere between pretending with her and wishing with Dana. And he knew that he could not go to her with this, just like he could not go to her about Jeanne or Somalia or Paris or the tension that lessened or surged every other week.

Ziva watched him stand and turn off his computer. "Where are you going?"

He grabbed his keys and headed towards the elevator. "Somewhere. I need to think, clear my head. Can't do it here."

The doors slid closed and then reopened to admit her. Tony sighed as she flipped the switch.

"Why are you shutting me out?"

Her arms were loose at her sides. She forgot her brown leather jacket at her desk. Her hair was down and straight and he remembered that when he first met her, she had wavy black curls.

"I'm not shutting you out."

"Then talk to me. You were...attracted to this woman. You got involved. And now she is dead."

Tony scrubbed his face. She had an irritating way of just stating the facts when it was so much more than just facts.

"Yes, she's dead," he said. He turned to see her staring at him. "I had my dead man walking experience, so now I know how it feels."

Ziva blinked. "What?"

"Sanders."

Her face closed. "So Dana was your Sanders."

They stared at each other. Ziva didn't let her face betray how deeply he cut her. Sanders, yes, there was a definite possibility with him, but he had died and she found a deeper love, one that took her apart piece by piece until all she was was human.

Ziva broke the stare, flipping on the switch. They rode the elevator down in silence. The space between them was cavernous. When the elevator doors slid open, Tony started forward just as Ziva moved to hit the button to take her back up. He hesitated and held the door open.

She looked at him. This time her eyes did not search nor did they intuit. They were just eyes and he realized he had moved out of her orbit, just as she moved out of his.

"Yes, Tony?"

He removed his hand. "I just wanted to say goodnight."

She said nothing as the doors slid shut. She meant to say goodnight as well, but she didn't trust herself. She wondered if he would go to Gibbs. He would. He would go to him and build his own kind of boat to another one who got away.

The elevator doors drew back and Ziva went to her desk. The paper was still in her hand. She looked at the receiver. She looked at his desk. She saw him sitting at Dana's piano as though he had lost a lover. She could taste how sharp her own regret was. Too many times she had been the loser. Too many times.

Ziva picked up the phone and dialed. She waited.

"Hello, it is me, Ziva. Is that drink offer still good, Dunham?"


	2. Stellar

**Author's Note**: It's longer. Takes place after 'Borderland' without any real reference to the episode.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

---Stellar---

Ziva stepped into her apartment and shut the door. Relief flooded her. Chad Dunham was a good man. He was a man. And she was glad that he didn't seek an invitation inside because she would have relented. She dropped her purse on the couch and stopped by the answering machine before continuing to the bedroom.

Abby called and wanted to arrange some dinner. A contact left a cryptic message about how to reach him. A Mossad liaison director wanted to set an appointment to discuss her citizenship. Ziva rolled her eyes and picked up her toothbrush. Right. Well, they can keep waiting.

"Ziva, hey, it's uh, it's me, Tony."

Ziva popped her head out of the bathroom. She heard glass clinking and the buzz of different voices. A bluesy tune played in the background. He was at a bar and he was drunk. His voice was low.

"You know, lately, we've been off. We've been…weird. We used to have this ease, this Butch Cassidy, Sundance Kid kind of camaraderie. And then Jenny died and you were shipped back to Israel and I was in a sardine can floating in a bathtub for a few months."

Ziva came and stood in front of the machine, brushing absently. She did not know Butch Cassidy Sundance Kid but she knew that they were off. She caught herself staring at him like a lovesick teenager and remembered how she used to look at him. His voice cut into her thoughts.

"I've been trying to figure out when it all changed. All I know for sure is that who we are now isn't working. I feel like I'm walking with a shortened leg, which is better than walking around numb for months, I guess."

Tony paused. The background noise changed. The voices became muted. A car horn blared. She closed her eyes and saw him standing outside the bar, still in the dark suit from work. He was frowning, probably had a hand to his forehead, his eyes shuttered. She saw his shoulders rise and fall. It was there, at the very tip of his tongue. Ziva prayed that he wouldn't say it. She prayed that he would let it lie.

"You know what's been rambling around my Gibbs-softened brain? I went to Somalia not to save you. I went," Tony took a breath then let it out in a laugh, "I went to avenge you."

"Damn, this is the longest message. What kind of machine do you have?" Tony sighed. "I just want to tell you…I don't know what I want to tell you. I'm sorry. Shit."

The line went dead. Another message played but Ziva stopped the machine and replayed Tony's message. She listened to every word and every inflection of voice. She listened again, erased it, and walked back to the bathroom. Carefully she washed her mouth and her face. While she dried it her eyes caught her reflection. Who was the woman in the mirror? Ziva David?

Ziva leaned forward and then back. He once said that her eyes would not shut up. They looked flat, like someone drew them on her face. So much had happened and it made them messy. Tony made her soft, made her act like a fool, made her into some ordinary woman. And she was not ordinary. She did not need to flirt with others to get his attention. She did not need to constantly worry about his personal life—as long as it did not affect their professional life, he could obsess, next, one night whatever-Americans-call-it anyone. She did not need to be saved. She could save herself.

Ziva dropped the towel and grabbed her coat and purse from the couch. She picked up her keys from the change bowl and swung open her door.

Tony was bent over the potted plant next to the door, his hands sifting through the dirt. He looked up at the same time she jerked to a stop.

"Tony?"

He flashed a grin and wiped his hand on his pants before standing. "Ziva, hello. Did you just get home? Hi, again."

Ziva dropped a hand to her waist. "No, I did not just get home, Tony. What are you doing?"

"Well," Tony slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "I did something stupid."

"And you thought rifling through dirt would help?"

He just looked at her with that dumb grin on his face. She stared into his eyes and saw panic. Once, she never made it easy. It was time to revert back to that time.

"Why are you here, Tony?"

He shrugged. She crossed her arms. They stared each other down until the grin fell from his face and her mouth compressed into a thin line.

"There's no truth serum in me this time, Ziva."

She refused to let the reference sidetrack her. "In vino veritas."

Tony cracked a smile that failed to even draw out the wrinkles by his eyes. "So you got the message. Huh," he scratched his head, "I should have known by that stone cold killer face."

Ziva shook her head. "You are a coward."

Tony clapped a hand to his chest. "Me? How so? Please, explain."

"I ask a simple question, I get another cryptic response. You came here to find a key, break into my apartment and what? Steal the tape?"

Tony sighed. "Okay, I thought it would work. Saw it on a show once."

Ziva inhaled sharply. "I am sure, Tony. I will call you a cab. Come inside." She turned away, not bothering to see if he followed. In the kitchen she called the operator and got a cab company while she made him a glass of lemon water. He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. She set the glass down in front of him with a hard clink.

"I did not have honey. So it is more sour than normal. Drink it. The cab will be here in fifteen minutes."

Tony opened his mouth to speak but she held up a hand. "For your sake, do not speak. I have had enough of your talking."

So he did not talk. He drained the contents of the glass with a shudder as she watched him from the opposite chair. Time ticked by slowly. He analyzed the boots she wore. The heel was thin. The leather black. Her jeans were tight. The peach silk camisole she wore looked like lingerie. Her hair was down and straight and fell into her face, creating a shadow. He thought of the moon when he looked into her face. She wasn't smiling, not even a slight quirk of the corners. He opened his mouth after ten minutes but her eyes pricked him silent.

When fifteen minutes rolled into twenty, Tony stood up. He took a step, hesitated, then started towards her door.

"Tony, why did you call me tonight?"

He stopped and looked at her. Ziva stood by the chair. Even in the partial darkness her eyes bore into him. Her voice was soft and, despite his drunken state, he could hear the note of vulnerability.

"No bullshit?" he asked.

Ziva nodded. "No…bullshit."

Tony grinned. He rarely heard her curse in English. It sounded pretty coming from her. He came back and sat on the couch. She resumed her position in the chair.

"I saw you with Dunham. At Fioro's. What did you get? Butter pecan and cookies n' cream, two scoops, chocolate sauce and fostered bananas?"

The surprise on her face was worth the remembered sinking sensation as he watched them sitting on the terrace beneath twinkling white lights. She smiled at Dunham above her mountain of ice cream. She even let him swipe a spoonful.

He waited for the round of questions, for the charge that he was jealous, for her indignation and recriminations and guilt tripping. Instead the surprise turned into a soft smile.

"It was four scoops. I have sweet teeth."

Tony started to correct her but changed his mind. In a way, she was correct.

"You saw me eating ice cream with Dunham. And then you went to a bar and drunk called me. And then you came to my apartment to erase the damning evidence," Ziva said. Tony shifted. He forgot how easily she could flip the investigator switch. The next logical question would be…

"Why?"

He expected the question and yet he squirmed. He rubbed the back of his neck, tugged on his tie, rubbed his suddenly aching knee. Ziva remained unaffected by the display. Finally he sighed and held her gaze.

"I care. I got drunk because, hell, Ziva, look at what happens when I care. It turns into an episode of _The Young and the Restless_."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "I do not know this reference. But I understand that our partnership has…evolved. It has come to a point where I also care for you in such a way."

She came to the couch and sat close to him, but did not face him. "I see you differently, Tony. I…" she paused, "when I witnessed your behavior with Dana, I realized as you must have realized with Michael, that we keep missing our chance."

Tony glanced at her. It was the most revealing statement she has made about them. In that moment, he knew that he loved her simply because she was braver than him. Yeah, he went into Somalia to find the sons of bitches who killed her, regardless of his life, but he never said anything, he never put it out there, and if he did, he fucked it up. Here she was, in her place, telling him the truth. She did a fine job of not fucking it up.

"Our chance, you say."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. For ourselves to be happy. But," she inhaled and brought her eyes to his, "we can never be happy together, Tony."


	3. Ground Control

**Author's Note**: Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad that almost all of you like the angst. Drama will ensue. I want to take things slow with these two and not treat their relationship like some tepid pot of water as seen on the show. Precedes 'Rule Fifty-One'. Next chapter deals with it as I am still trying to deal with it. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

-Ground Control-

The proper reaction to the woman you love telling you that the words 'together' and 'happy' just aren't in the cards is not to run into her bathroom and puke your brains out. No, that would be the last, well close to last, thing you would want to do.

Tony rested his head against the cool porcelain seat. Ziva leaned over him to flush the toilet and hand him a washcloth. He took it without looking, ashamed. His head was splitting, he could smell the dinner and whiskey he had prior to digging in her potted plant, and the few thoughts he could string together consisted of praying he was not made of weak sauce.

Ziva left him just as he emptied more of his stomach and returned with him groaning over the bowl. She knelt silent beside him, watching until he was certain there was nothing left to sacrifice to the porcelain god.

"Is this an American thing?" she asked as she helped him up.

Tony peered at her. Her face cracked into a sly smile.

"Only when they drink more than fish."

"This is one of your idioms. Drink like a fish, yes?"

He was in another part of the apartment. It had the appearance of a bedroom. He faltered when she gently maneuvered him onto a low, pristine white bed. Her question was forgotten when she bent down to ease off his shoes.

"What, uh, what are you doing?"

The light from the hall cast a shadow over her face save for that sly smile.

"I am taking off your shoes. Next I will take off your jacket," she slid her hands beneath the jacket at the shoulders, easing them off, "and next I will loosen your shirt cuffs."

Tony sat swaying as she knelt between his knees and concentrated on his shirt cuffs. He looked above her head, daring his hands to move and do anything stupid. Didn't she just say something about being together and being happy? Didn't she?

"Hey," he started then stopped. A wave of dizziness knocked him back and he laughed.

"You know, and this is probably breaking all sorts of self-imposed rules here, but this is my number three highest rated fantasy."

Ziva stood up and grabbed his legs, swinging them on the bed. "You are drunk and I am taking off your clothes?"

Tony straightened slowly. Every movement seemed to toss him here or there. He was rocking when he was lying still on his back, a hand covering his face.

"No," he answered. She waited for him to say more but he gripped the side of the bed and rolled himself over, sighing in relief.

"I need aspirin. And my gun."

Ziva sighed. "The aspirin I will get. As for your gun…" She left the bedroom.

When she stepped back in Tony was asleep. Tony asleep was a rather common occurrence. She had seen him dozing, nodding, snoring, scratching his face, waking up grumpy or mild a good many times. But she never saw him doing this in her bed. Natural restraint caused her to drop the two tablets on the bedside table. Curiosity propelled her to drop to her haunches and watch his face smooth out and his mouth open a little. She held out a hand and dropped it, then held it out again.

His face was warm. His cheek was prickly. She smoothed a thumb over his eyebrow then over the ridge of bone beneath his eye. She swept her thumb lightly over his dry bottom lip. The contact made her arm zing and he shivered. His hand moved reflexively and she stood abruptly before it sleepily brushed his face.

Ziva took a blanket and settled it over him. She went to the door and looked back at him, sleeping. It was useless. She shut the door and went to sleep on the couch.

His phone blaring launched him off the bed. He scrambled for it, knocking things over, stubbing his toe, disturbing his head and stomach. He found the phone in his jacket pocket and winced when he read the screen.

"Good morning boss," Tony said brightly.

"You mean _good afternoon_, DiNozzo. Get your ass to Wyndmore Plaza. We have a dead PC."

"On it boss," Tony said. He almost hit 'end call' when Gibbs' voice rang through the air.

Tony suctioned the phone to his ear. "Sorry, didn't catch that, thought you were done."

"I said Ziva should be waiting. Get to it."

"Yes, boss."

"And DiNozzo?"

"Yes boss?"

"Clean up your mess."

Tony was about to speak when the phone disconnected. He stared at it and looked around. Shit. He bent over and let out a silent yell. _Shit. _Every hellish moment from last night came flooding back. Christ.

His phone buzzed. It was Ziva. The text message got him rushing into some state of order and out of her apartment. She sat in the Charger out front and continued looking out the window when he jumped in, shaking the car.

Tony opened his mouth to speak as Ziva wordlessly handed him a coffee.

"Gibbs was not too harsh?" Ziva said as she pulled away from the curb.

"Too harsh? O sweet innocence," Tony responded as the car shifted into third gear and she sped down the street.

"Maybe if you learned to handle your liquor you would have the keys. Now I get to drive. For the week. McGee bought you a little bucket for your 'tossed cookies'."

Tony grumbled and Ziva smiled. And just like that, they were back in form.


	4. White Dwarfs

**Author's Note**: Picks up where 'Rule Fifty-One' left off. There is violence. And this is where the angst train picks up some major steam. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

White Dwarfs

Ziva raised her right hand. In a couple of minutes she would be an American citizen. She would have to get an American passport to fly to Israel. Her flag would cease to be blue and white with the gold Star of David. Israel no longer represented 'home'.

She began to recite the words and that's when the fear set in. It was as real as a gun in her face. Abby and McGee were next to her, Jimmy and Ducky behind her, Director Vance stood two seats to her left. They were reverent and proud as the room filled with a chorus of voices. Her voice was one of them. She heard the strong accent ring in her ears, pledging allegiance, loyalty, and love to America.

Ziva glanced next to her. Vance caught her glance and she looked ahead. She wished he would move over at least one seat. It was as though an abyss had formed out of those two empty seats.

It was over just as quickly as it began.

* * *

Tony followed Franks. It was just like him to show up out of nowhere and take the reins. Take the reins with a chopped off trigger finger and the assurance that he can shoot with his thumb. Tony frowned as he easily moved throughout the market. The man had to be a little insane. Might be infection. The bandage didn't look too clean. Might be the fact that his daughter-in-law and granddaughter were hostages of the Reynosa cartel.

Then again, who was he to call the man crazy? He went into a terrorist's bungalow to kill the piece of shit responsible for the death of his partner who turned out to be alive, but definitely not well.

Franks stopped suddenly. Tony stepped toward a cart of lace shawls. He eyed Franks and apprehension grew into a cool fear when Franks turned quickly and made for him.

"They made me, dammit," Frank whispered as he passed and Tony casually fingered a black lace shawl as two men followed Franks to the back of a restaurant. Tony glanced ahead and saw Alejandro chatting up another henchman, this one with no qualms at hiding the fact he was packing.

Vance gave him a simple mission: observe and report and try not to get killed. Simple. Franks was not part of the mission. He wanted to get his ass full of holes then that was his deal, not his problem.

"Shit," Tony muttered and made after the two men. He was swift in catching up with them. They had Franks cornered, guns drawn.

"Okay, guys, drop the guns," Tony said. He pointed his gun at the one nearest to him.

"I know you speak English. Drop. The. Guns."

The one nearest to him grinned and turned his gun on Tony. Franks shifted his aim to the other one while the other one trained it on Franks.

Tony grinned. "Well, it looks like we have ourselves a good ole fashioned Mexican standoff. All we're missing is the tumbleweed and a pretty senorita cowering in the doorway."

"Then how about we make it more interesting?" another voice called from behind Tony.

All eyes shifted to the voice. Tony gave an exasperated sigh. It was the third henchman. His Sig pointed in Tony's direction.

"Desi, Cinco, look at our American friends. I think we should show them some hospitality," the man with the Sig said. Desi and Cinco grinned.

The odds were horrible. But he's beaten worse. He had an extra gun but he would have to draw. He doubted his friends would wait. Franks, well, fuck Franks. He and his thumb. Tony inhaled.

"You know, this reminds me of 'Tombstone'. Without the mustaches. And I'm missing two more people. But still," Tony grinned. His grip tightened. He could take out Desi or Cinco, whichever was the one closest to him first, but Mr. Sig was on his ass and that bullet would not be a massage hitting his back or head. One last chance for surrender.

"So, what's it gonna be boys? We drop the guns or we start putting holes where holes don't belong?"

The man nearest Tony laughed. "Cabron, the only time we drop our guns is—"

Tony fired at him point blank in the chest. There was an explosion of sound. Franks dove to the ground and squeezed off two rounds at his man, catching him in the shoulder. Tony drew and managed to shoot at Mr. Sig before a bullet rendered his right arm immobile.

Franks rolled to a metal dumpster as bullets hit the dirt. His man fired wildly at the side of the dumpster where he thought Franks hid, but Franks edged to the other side, cursing. He lost sight of the boy. Shit. There was the sporadic pop of gunfire but he couldn't tell if it was this idiot shooting at the ground or Sig emptying the clip into DiNozzo's body. Either way, he had to move.

Franks counted to three and ran out from the other side of the dumpster. He caught the other man unawares and put one in his cheek and another in one side of the chest when he jerked around.

"Franks!"

He spun around, gun level. Tony stood near the body of the man with the sig. He cradled one arm and seemed to sway on his feet.

Franks lowered the gun. "Looks like me and my thumb made it through without getting any of them holes."

Tony grunted then raised his gun and fired behind him. Franks turned and emptied his gun into the first man shot. Blood smeared the wall as the man slumped down the wall he used to prop himself up.

"Shit, DiNozzo—" Franks stopped.

Tony was on his back. His bloody hand clutched his stomach. Blood spilled onto the grimy pavement.

Franks ran over and pried Tony's hand from the wound.

"Shit," he breathed.

"Give me the plague," Tony gasped.

"Shut up," Franks said. He placed Tony's hand back on the wound. "Pressure. You know the drill."

Franks did a quick sweep of his surroundings. Three dead. Two plausible exits. Head out the other side of the alley or go though the restaurant. The door lazily swung open presented the best possibility but leaving the alley on the other side felt like the safer option.

He spotted Tony grinning.

"What the hell is wrong with you boy?

Tony couldn't speak. Franks swore and pulled him onto his feet, practically dragging him down the alley.

He was conscious of Franks running out in the middle of the road to get a taxi, and he was partially coherent when Franks pointed his gun at the cab driver to make him take the bleeding American to el hospital.

He knew he still had a grin on his face because Franks kept checking to see if he still breathed.

He grinned because Ziva was an American and he was dying in Mexico. _I bet she's going to be pretty pissed for being pissed that I missed it_. Tony saw her looking at him, her black eyes inscrutable. And then he blacked out.

* * *

"I am sure given your special circumstances you would have been able to obtain dual-citizenship," Ducky said. Palmer nodded.

Abby frowned. "Dual? Ziva's dad sent her on a suicide mission, Ducky. I don't think that would be a good idea. I mean, Chanukah would be so awkward."

Ziva smiled when everyone looked stricken at her. "I agree, Abby, Chanukah would be very awkward indeed."

McGee gave her a sympathetic look. "We can always have awkward dinner parties at Ducky's house."

Ziva just shook her head. "Thank you Tim. I am not sure why this would be necessary, but thank you nonetheless."

Vance rejoined the little group after stepping out to take a phone call.

"I'm sorry to break up this celebration, but David, McGee, I need you both. Come with me. Dr. Mallard, Ms. Sciuto, Mr. Palmer I expect to see you back at NCIS within the hour."

He walked past them. The group shared a concerned glance before Ziva and McGee rushed after the Director.

"What is this about?" Ziva asked when they were in a car speeding back to headquarters.

"I sent Tony to Mexico on recon," Vance paused. Ziva and McGee drew back in shock.

"With Gibbs?" McGee asked. Vance shook his head.

Ziva watched the muscle in Vance's jaw jump. Something happened. She stared at him until he looked her straight in the eyes.

"There was a gun fight. Tony is in critical condition at a Mexico City hospital. I need one of you down there to secure him and I need the other to retrieve Franks."

Sound muted. It became hard to breathe. Critical condition. Gun fight. Ziva remembered what happened the last time she saw Tony go down. Her stomach knotted like a muscle spasming. Her eyes skidded over McGee's dazed expression to the fading afternoon. The Capitol building filtered into the scenery and she watched as it disappeared.

Less than two hours ago she became an American. Her hand was devoid of the familiar weight of a gun. In Mossad, they always had a gun. She shut her eyes. She was angry that he wasn't there. The empty seat loomed in her mind.


	5. Event Horizon

**Author's Note**: I have to address a subject raised in a review: this is not a Hurt!Tony fic. He got shot because that's where the story led. Will it affect people? Yes. Is it the chief reason I'm continuing this story? No. This is a Ziva and Tony getting their crap together fic. So, enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

Event Horizon

The night was thick, moonless, and muggy when the carrier landed in Mexico. A government liaison waited for them at the far end of the landing strip. Behind him was a blacked out van.

"Your director informed me this is a thirty-six hour mission. So let's not waste any time. Special Agent McGee, Agent David," the man said as he slid open the side door.

McGee and Ziva stepped in, surprised at the interior. There was a computer set up on one side and guns and ammo on the other. McGee went for the tech side and Ziva examined the gun side.

"Are we expecting some heavy work Agent…"

"Solito, Agent David, and I hope not. I drew the short straw for this op."

"There's tracking systems, satellite imagery, a direct uplink to our respective offices," McGee rambled, tapping the keys.

Ziva inspected a shotgun. "Vance was not kidding about this job."

"This Franks and Special Agent DiNozzo caused quite an uproar. They took out three lieutenants of the Reynosa cartel. We later discovered that they were moles inside our justice department."

McGee turned to look at Ziva. She kept her face blank. Agent Solito glanced at them in the rearview mirror.

"I guess this is not fresh news."

McGee shook his head. "Do you have Mike Franks in custody?"

"Yes. We are holding him at the hospital, as a patient. He was not very…cooperative until we offered him a room in the mental ward."

McGee chuckled.

It took them another fifteen minutes to get to the hospital. Agent Solito parked the van in the back and ushered them in the same way. A couple of flashed badges at well-hidden officers and they were on the intensive unit floor. McGee and Ziva presented their IDs and the charge nurse buzzed them in.

The floor was active; nurses bustled around them as though they were shadows. Agent Solito led them to the far end of the floor. Each step Ziva took grew heavier and when they joined the guard stationed outside Tony's door, Ziva could barely breathe.

"McGee, a moment."

She grabbed his arm before he could speak and dragged him aside. "We do not have a lot of time. I will secure Franks."

"Are you sure? Franks can be difficult to handle and I—"

Ziva gave him pointed look and he nodded. "I'll stay with Tony."

"Good," she said. She handed him a slip of paper. On it was a name he could barely pronounce.

"I need you to find this person."

"But," McGee watched Ziva turn and stride off. "What for?" he called after her.

Mike Franks was up and pacing the length of the hospital room when Ziva came in. He went rigid when she pulled her gun and set it on the bed tray.

"I need to know why you endangered Tony's mission. And I need to know now."

Her eyes were calm but he saw that emotion that made people do stupid, dangerous things. He was afflicted with it, but out of the two of them, he knew she was more lethal, more dogged, and more likely to snap if she didn't get an answer when she asked for one.

"They have my family. Ain't no way I'm leaving Mexico without those two next to me."

Ziva searched his face. "I believe you. Do you know where they are?"

He scratched his beard.

"Do you know who knows where they are?"

Franks shook his head. "I think it's best if you let me go handle this and then—"

Ziva slammed her hand on the bed tray. "No. You are not Gibbs, you will not just disappear and reappear without help or explanation. Who _knows_?"

Ziva emerged a few minutes later from the room. She dialed a number.

"Vance."

"I spoke to Franks. He will not leave without his family."

Vance heard the unspoken question. He rolled a toothpick against his cheek.

"Do what you have to do. I'll make a call, connect you with the drug task force."

"Director," a pause, "with all due respect, we do not have time for task forces. I have four men. That is enough."

Vance chewed the toothpick. He did not want a former Mossad agent now NCIS agent reverting back to her old tricks. The body count might be too much for his superiors to squirrel around. But he had an agent down, Gibbs MIA, and too many connections between his office and a drug cartel.

"Keep me informed, Agent David."

Ziva hung up and motioned for Solito.

"Where would Alejandro Rivera be at this hour?"

"What do you want with Alejandro Rivera?"

Ziva stared at him. Solito rubbed his jaw. "Rivera is one of our best."

"Sometimes your best can be your worst," Ziva said.

"I will find out," Solito said after a moment. Ziva moved past him to where McGee stood panting. He held out a piece of paper. She read it and grinned.

"You don't…you don't want to see Tony?" McGee said. Ziva glanced at the curtained off section.

"Have you seen him?"

"No, I ran the name as soon as you gave it to me."

Ziva turned towards the room. "Give me a moment then."

McGee hung back and she went in. She heard beeping and clicking. Her hands shook as she reached for the curtain.

"Ziva David, maintain yourself," she said and yanked back the curtain.

She expected him to be up, picking at the I.V. tape, moaning and groaning about his wounds all the while eyes beaming with mischief.

But Tony was on his back, eyes closed, tubes running in and out. She gripped the foot of the bed. He had bandages on his stomach, side, and shoulder. Blood reddened each bandage. He had growth on his face. It was dark. She had seen him unshaven only a handful of times but never like this, never with his mouth shut.

"It's so quiet," McGee said. She flinched.

"Yes. Quiet," she said.

"I spoke to a doctor. Tony was shot in the lung, abdomen and shoulder," McGee said. Ziva stared at him.

"Will he be alright?"

"The doctor said is worried about his lung. Combined with the scarring, the trauma might have some severe adverse effects."

Adverse effects. Ziva turned and left the room. McGee followed her out.

"Ziva."

She stopped. McGee ran a hand over his head. He was in distress. She stood before him, frustrated.

"I am not Abby, McGee, I cannot hug you or offer you distracting comfort talk. I am not Gibbs, I cannot command you to pull yourself together. I am not Ducky, I am not Vance," she dropped her shoulders, "and I am not Tony."

"All I can do is to finish this mission. All I can ask of you is to help me. Because I need you."

They stared at each other for a full minute before McGee took out his iPhone. "I sent you directions and satellite information for your informant. I'll call you when I get a definitive on Tony."

"I will call if there are any developments," Ziva pivoted on her heel and powered down the hall.

She met Agent Solito at the van.

"Alejandro Rivera is in his office. He has not called the car service to pick him up," Agent Solito said.

Ziva opened the van and chose a SD9. "Are these guns clean?"

Solito nodded. "What are you planning?"

"It is time I have a chat with Mr. Rivera," she said.


	6. Angular Momentum

**A/N**: I have trouble with 'effect' and 'affect'. I fixed it. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

Angular Momentum

Alejandro Rivera poured more sugar into a black mug. He took a sip and added a dash of creamer. He left the small break room and walked the silent hall, passed empty offices and cubicles.

The lights flickered on as he stepped inside his office and maneuvered to his desk. He set the coffee mug down on the corner and sat, shuffling papers aside.

"Mr. Rivera."

Alejandro shot up only to see Ziva sitting in partial darkness. She sat with her legs crossed. A gun rested on her knee.

"I remember you. An agent of NCIS," Alejandro said. His hand edged beneath the drawer of the desk.

"We were not formally introduced. I am Ziva David. You are Alejandro Rivera, an official within the Justice Department. You are the son of Pedro Hernandez. Your sister is Paloma Reynosa. And you have a .45 that I currently have in my possession."

Ziva pointed the gun at him. "Hands on the desk."

Alejandro raised his hands and placed them on top of files. She stood and stepped towards the desk.

"Whatever you think you are doing, you better think it through, very carefully. I am a government official."

"Your loyalties lie elsewhere. But I am not here to discuss that matter. I am going to ask you two questions. It is in your best interest to answer them truthfully and quickly."

Alejandro frowned. "I do not understand. Who are you?"

Ziva fired a round into the painting above his head. Alejandro crouched over the desk, grabbing his head.

"Cristo," he said.

"Mike Franks and his family were taken by the Reynosa cartel. What is their condition?"

Alejandro looked into her face. This was not NCIS. Her voice was flat and he barely saw her shift her aim and back. Her face was stark but the eyes—they held the darkness of killers, cold and efficient. No, she was not NCIS.

"Mike Franks is alive—"

A shot rang out and Alejandro screamed as a bullet ripped through his palm.

"I know Mike Franks is alive. It was he who informed me of your connection. Now," she adjusted the grip on her gun, "their condition."

Sweat mixed with blood as Alejandro cradled his hand. "The mother and child are alive."

Ziva selected a pen and tapped the notepad next to the coffee mug. "Location."

Alejandro took the pen and scribbled down an address. Ziva peeled the note from its place, read it, and slipped it into her coat. She stepped closer and pressed the gun into his forehead.

"I suggest you take this experience as an indicator of future events and leave the hired man business to your sister."

The gun drew back from his forehead. When he opened his eyes, Ziva was gone.

Agent Solito signaled to the paramedic standing by when he saw Ziva approaching.

"I assume he is alive?"

Ziva handed him the note. "You assume correctly. An address."

Solito read it. "This is on the coast. About thirty miles west of where Franks used to live."

"Is cartel activity heavy?"

"It's nothing that my team can't handle."

"I do not want too many people involved. This is not a bust. This is a retraction. Your men can have the cartel after I get the woman and child." Ziva walked to the elevators and hit the down button. The doors slid open and they entered.

Solito worked his mouth. "How many men do you want?"

"I have four men. That is all I need," Ziva said and Solito rubbed his cheek.

"I am one of this four?"

"You were the one who pulled the short straw," Ziva said. She managed to keep a grin from showing. The doors opened and they were in a darkened parking garage.

"What now?" Solito asked as they walked to the black van.

"I need a weapon," Ziva said. She climbed into the passenger seat. He glanced at her and jogged around to the driver side. The engine rumbled as they pulled out of the garage and sped down the street.

"There is a virtual arsenal in the back," he said.

Ziva peered out the window. Mexico City at night reminded her somewhat of D.C. The street was slick from earlier rains and streetlight bounced off the surface.

"Yes, but it is not there. At Ramos Ave, please stop. I must get out."

"Ramos Ave? What is going on Agent David?"

Ziva looked at him. "I told you I need a weapon."

* * *

"What does he look like?"

McGee scanned Tony's face. "He's pale."

"Really, McGee? _Pale_? Take a picture."

"What? Abby, no. Absolutely not. He's not an exhibit—"

"He's lying in a hospital bed thousands of miles away. I can't touch him, can't hug him, can't see if he's really pale or if it's the light hitting his face or whatever."

McGee sighed and aimed the iPhone at Tony's face. "Sorry," he muttered as he snapped the picture.

"There, I sent it. Never ask me to do that again."

"Oh my God Tim!"

Thousands of miles did not lessen the anguish in Abby's voice. It was in situations like these that he hated technology.

"How is Ziva?"

McGee glanced at his watch. Two hours came and went four minutes ago. Normally this would not distress him but it was Ziva—she was her word.

"Ziva is…Ziva."

Abby groaned. "Ziva before she came back or Ziva after she came back?"

Ziva emerged from the exit stair and started towards him. McGee turned and pressed the phone to his ear. "Abby, I'm going to have to call you back."

"You better call me back. Immediately. Pronto. ASAHPOIWHY."

"What?"

"As soon as humanly possible or I will kill you. You drank the water, didn't you?"

"Goodbye Abby," McGee said. He hung up just as Ziva approached him. She glanced at the darkened room next to them.

"What is the prognosis? Is he fit to travel?"

McGee cleared his throat. "The doctors want to keep him here for another twenty-four."

Ziva frowned. "Another? We have thirty-six hours, McGee."

"I know."

"Starting from the second we entered Mexican airspace."

"Yes, I know. It's going to be tight, but they just want to make sure he's stable enough for flight."

McGee could read the stress pulling the skin around her mouth into tight lines. There was a smudge of dirt under her chin. He plucked a piece of straw from her hair.

"What don't I know?" he asked.

"The contact I had—he is a weapons dealer. I borrowed a M27 Law for the retraction."

McGee opened and shut his mouth. "Wait—a rocket launcher? We're doing something that requires a rocket launcher?"

Ziva clapped his shoulder. "Get some rest. 0800 we meet in Frank's room to go over the plan."

McGee read the hard edge in her face and didn't press the point. "I'll stay here."

Ziva pushed him to Agent Solito who waited down the hall. "Solito has secured a room for you. He assured me it is much better than the van."

"But Ziva," he sputtered.

"I will stay with Tony tonight."

McGee sighed and started away from her only to come back. He paused, glancing at her full in the eyes before casting his gaze to the floor.

"I'm just going to say this and you can do whatever you want with it. Don't…lose who you are in this. None of this could have been prevented. And we can do this without you…falling back onto Mossad methodology."

Ziva half-grinned. "McGee, get some rest. I will see you later." He gave her a quick look and went with Agent Solito. When the exit doors clicked shut her eyes went to the shadow filled hospital room. She stepped from the antiseptic brightness of the corridor into the stiff blackness of the room.

The curtain was pulled back. A small yellow light shone near the bed. Her eyes strayed over the various objects surrounding him as she moved closer. She wasn't ready to look at his face again, or the bandages that covered his torso and shoulder, or the tubes running out of his hands and arms. So she examined the machines, the bed railing, the serving tray with a plastic pitcher of water, the hard looking chair at an angle to the bed, the large plastic Ziploc bag with his personal effects.

Ziva unzipped it and took out the first thing her hand grazed—his aviators. The metal was cool. A fine layer of dust covered the black-brown lenses. He was wearing these during the shootout. She dropped them back into the bag and sat in the chair. The cushioned seat was as hard as the floor but her muscles welcomed the resistance and relaxed. She reclined in the chair and slowly dragged her eyes from the tip of his blanket covered feet to the lock of hair that stood straight up against the pillow.

Her eyes lingered back to his face. She saw him sleeping in her bed. She saw the moonlight fall onto his back and over his face. She felt his breath against her fingertips, she saw his eyelashes resting on his cheek and his mouth part a little.

"I am here, Tony," Ziva said. She leaned forward to touch his wrist. "You are not going to like how I do this, but I know no other way."

It was a long time before she removed her hand and shut her eyes. She prayed that coming back from the places she shut away was as easy as finding them.


	7. Wormholes

**A/N: **Long time, no update. Sorry. I changed the rocket launcher as a M27 Law does not exist but a M72 Law does, although a RPG-7 looks like launcher a badass woman would use. Oh, and I am fully enforcing creative license here. Because hey, explosions happen in space all the time.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

Wormholes

Ziva listened to the whoosh of air going in and going out. She counted her breaths in the span of a minute. Nowhere near normal. But then again, there was nothing normal about the situation.

Agent Solito lowered the binoculars and gave her a curt nod. She stepped out of the van and walked to the back. Solito watched her in the rearview mirror. Analytical tacticians rarely left the safety of their computer screens and red folders. He stilled the drumming of his knee when Ziva reappeared with a RPG-7 secured on her shoulder.

She braced herself against the side of the van as she lined up her target. Her shoulders relaxed and there was a click. Agent Solito had his attention on the target, the garage of the Reynosa cartel summer home, but was still surprised when it exploded seconds later. There was a brief moment of inactivity and then he heard the shouts of men and felt the van shake as Ziva dumped the weapon in back and slammed the passenger door.

"We have drawn enough men to the garage and to the side of the estate. The northwest portion should be lightly manned. We have twenty minutes to get in, retrieve the assets, and get out," Ziva stated as Agent Solito reversed into dense vegetation. The van bounced and then jerked as Solito placed it in park.

"I know the plan, Agent David."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Good."

They exited the van. Ziva looked at the sky as Solito grabbed a duffel and strapped on his holster. The sun was a pale disc behind smoke colored clouds. Dusk fell quickly here—she did not anticipate night for another twenty minutes but this didn't upset her. She was trained to work well under any circumstance.

"Let's go," Solito said. They stepped over the rocky uneven ground at a fast pace. Static filled her ear and Franks' grizzled voice entered her head.

"You skipping through the woods or something David?"

"I'm moving," Ziva responded. Solito grunted next to her and nodded up ahead. Swiftly moving shapes scrambled up the outcropping, curving around to the northwest corner.

"Do it," she said. Solito took a cell phone from a pocket and pressed a number. The van exploded with such force it shook the air around them. A fireball flared against the darkening sky. Solito cringed at the sound and the rush of heat but Ziva pressed on. Solito jogged behind her. A saltwater breeze brushed over him and lifted the hair from Ziva's fraying braid. It struck him then that Ziva was a woman-she might have children and a husband or boyfriend. He hoped she did.

They soon joined the team moving around to the other side of the house. McGee looked back when she sprinted forward. "We're losing light."

"I know," she said and they continued up the slope until the ground became less rocky and more even. The northwest side was quiet. She heard the chop of the ocean and the steady breathing of the men around her. She drew her gun as they approached the short wall of an enclosed lawn. Once they ascertained the lack of guards, Solito led them over the short wall. The lawn was wide and beyond it a rippling panel of glass doors.

"Here is where we separate. Agent Solito, McGee and I shall continue north. Rendezvous at La Paz court."

One of the men nodded, the field leader named Valdez, and eight men ran low across the lawn, swift as shadows. Ziva glanced at Solito and McGee and sprinted along the inside of the wall until it sloped downwards. Soon the north face of the house loomed above them and the rock wall gave way to a rocky outcropping with a hundred foot drop into blue ocean.

Ziva halted when she came upon an iron gate built into the face of the rock. Cool damp air came from the gate. There was a keypad lock on it and Ziva stepped aside as McGee knelt before it, unzipping a pocket of his vest. Solito dropped the duffel he carried and began pulling out black climbing rope and rigging.

"We are here, Franks," Ziva said. Her eyes roved the surrounding area for any movement.

"Took you long enough. You think you can do all this in ten minutes?"

The device McGee hooked up to the keypad beeped and the iron gate clicked open. He took out his gun and Ziva inhaled.

"If I do it in less I suppose you will still complain. Be ready."

Ziva entered through the gate first. Dim overhead lights flickered on as she moved down the moist passage. The ground was wet and the air moldy. The ceiling dipped and she bent awkwardly, her gun trained ahead of her. Another ten feet and she was in a large room with bare bulbs hanging from the dripping ceiling. Squat rectangular boxes with bars on them were the only windows and they lined one wall. Along this wall were a section of cells.

"Please," a weak voice cried.

Ziva snapped her eyes to the farthest cell. A shadow moved. Chains scraped the floor. McGee rushed ahead of her, flashlight trained on the source of the sound. It was Leyla. Her hair was matted and her white blouse was stained and ripped. Her eyes locked onto the gun McGee carried and she started rocking.

"Please, please, I have a daughter. I know nothing please!"

"Leyla, I am Ziva, Mike sent us," Ziva said. She holstered her weapon and bent to look at the other woman through the bars. They had her shackled to the wall by her ankle. The ankle itself was swollen and bent oddly. Ziva sucked in a breath.

Leyla stared at Ziva as recognition hit her. "Ziva, from NCIS?"

Ziva nodded. "I need you to duck down." Leyla did as she was told and McGee stepped back and fired at the lock. It broke off easily and Solito went to the chain connected to her ankle.

"We have no tools to cut this, and no time."

McGee tested the chain base. "It's weak. I just need something heavy to break it off from the wall."

Leyla grabbed Solito's arms. "No, Amira—they took my daughter. I don't know where she is, they took her somewhere, I can't leave without my daughter."

Both men looked to Ziva. Her stomach did a vicious twist. She turned from them and pressed her ear.

"Alejandro lied. Amira is not here and we have only minutes."

A rapid burst of curse words streamed into her ear. "I'm going to kill him."

Ziva heard McGee hit the chain base and Leyla pleading with Solito about her daughter. Franks was about to blow the entire mission—she heard it in the soft threat. There was only one way. She had enough ammo.

"We proceed as planned. You must leave at 2200, Franks. No matter what happens."

"I am not about to leave my grandchild—"

"Amira must be in the house. I will get her. If we are not at La Paz then we will be at the airstrip."

There is a pause then a rush of breath. "I don't like this shit at all."

Ziva shut her eyes. "Neither do I."

When she turned again McGee and Solito held Leyla up between them. She looked even worse partially standing. Ziva walked ahead of them out of the cave and had flashed the red signal for the boat when they emerged from the cave. In the distance a boat sped towards them. The sun sunk so low that only a sliver of blood orange remained. A cool blue settled over the area and Ziva passed a hand in front of her face.

Solito and McGee started to harness Leyla when she started to struggle.

"I am not leaving without Amira. Get this thing off of me, I need to get my child."

Ziva took Leyla by the shoulders. "I am going back to get Amira. But you need to go. There is a boat and we are going to lower you down to it. Franks will be there. And he will take you to an airstrip and Amira will be there. I will bring her to you."

Leyla's eyes were wild and she gripped Ziva's arms so hard it burned. "Do you promise me? I must have my daughter, Ziva. Do you promise me?"

Ziva glanced at McGee. His face was a grim, eyes hooded. Leyla shook her. "Look at me! Do not lie! Will my daughter be there?"

Ziva breathed. Promises. So many promises. In the past three days she had seen how easily promises could be made and broken. She looked into Leyla's dark eyes and saw the kind of devastation that could kill a person or drive a person past endurance, past insanity, past all conceivable hope until there is nothing left, until the person is hollow. Only a promise could keep that at bay.

"I swear to you, I will bring her back."

* * *

Ziva steadied the rope as they lowered Leyla to the boat below. Solito motioned for Ziva to go next but she shook her head.

"Agent David," Solito said.

"I have to find the child," Ziva said. McGee dropped the rope.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you have to get Tony."

McGee stared hard at her. "Ziva, I can't let you do this alone. These men are trained. We have no idea where Amira is. If we regroup then maybe—"

"No maybe. We are out of time. You have to get them to La Paz and from there to the airstrip. This is what I need from you Tim. I need you to do this," Ziva said.

"I will go with her," Solito said. McGee sighed as Solito came around to stand next to her. This was when he felt like a probie again. He had no idea what to say or how he should act. He was angry, angry that he was relegated to collect and transport duty when Ziva was running headlong into an attack with a virtual stranger.

She read it in his face. "As my partner, I'm asking you to trust me. Please."

McGee shook his head, defeat darkening his face. He reached into a pocket and gave her his phone. "It has a layout of the house. And GPS tracking. Don't lose it so I don't lose you."

Ziva said nothing as McGee repelled down the rock face. Ziva heard a whistle and the rev of a boat engine. She turned from the edge and watched as Solito pulled an assault rifle from the duffel he carried. He strapped a belt of magazines around his waist and stood, rolling his shoulders.

"Are we expecting some heavy work Agent Solito?" Ziva asked. Solito smiled.

"I drew the short straw. I best be prepared."

Ziva drew her gun and stepped back through the gate, Agent Solito on her six.

* * *

The underground room was located beneath a dark room. Cool amber light hit her face as she pushed opened the heavy flat steel doors. Film fluttered over her face and hair. A sharp vinegar smell tickled her nose and she forced air out her noise to prevent a sneeze.

"What would Reynosa want with a dark room?" Solito whispered as they quickly went to the door.

"Drug dealers have hobbies too," Ziva said. She pressed an ear to the cool steel. It was insulated. No noise. She tested the handle. It turned without much effort. She counted to three and edged open the door. Nothing. They stepped into a bright hall. Ziva blinked as her eyesight adjusted. The house was eerily still in its brightness. Ziva monitored her breathing and the breathing of Agent Solito. Slow, steady, and deep.

There was a faint pop pop pop. Ziva halted and pressed herself against the wall. Agent Solito grabbed his earpiece and stuck it back in.

"¿Valdez, qué es su posición actual?"

There was a crackle. Ziva looked over at Solito.

"They are under heavy fire near farther east. The compound is expansive—reinforcements are coming."

"How long?" Ziva asked.

"¿Cuánto tiempo?"

Solito nodded. "Within ten minutes. They tell us to hurry—they are flushing men towards us."

Ziva took out the McGee's phone and pulled up the blue print. The far house had three tiers. It was connected to the main house and another structure by covered walkways. She highlighted the northwest corner and mapped their location. Above them was an empty space but that wasn't right—what should be a staircase was actually smooth ceiling.

"There is a room that doesn't belong."

Solito scanned the blue print. "The stair case is on the other side of this tier. If you don't object, I suggest we take my lead on this."

Ziva let him step around her. He tucked the rifle into his shoulder and swiftly crossed out into the open, sweeping the area right to left. Ziva followed as he cut a direct path across the bottom floor to the base of the stairs. She was ahead of him, gun down when a volley of bullets whizzed past them and shattered one of the glass panels behind them. Ocean breeze swept through the area. Ziva glanced in the direction of fire and saw shadows along the downstairs wall.

The staircase was open, a free-floating disaster.

"Go," she said, firing at the men below them. Solito dashed ahead of her only to start firing above them. They ran up the stairs to the second level, ducking and rolling to the covered hall.

"I'll hold here," Solito said. Ziva ran down the hall and into the room. The pink walls and white furniture and the toys were all a blur except for the child quivering in the corner, her little body curled into a ball and her face pressed into a black teddy bear.

Ziva went to her and placed a gentle hand on the shaking back. "Amira, do you remember me?"

Two big brown eyes peeked out at her. There was a second of blind fear and then the brown eyes softened. "Ziva?"

A small arm outstretched towards her and Ziva scooped her up, hugging her tightly.

"Hold on tight, Amira. And close your eyes," Ziva said. She dropped an empty clip and reloaded. Solito appeared at the door. Sweat dripped from his face.

"Our best chance is up and out. I don't know how many are down there—"

The lights cut out. Ziva felt Amira dig her nails into her shoulder and her knees into her ribs.

"You go, I cover you. There is a balcony, third room to your left. We'll go from there," Solito whispered. Ziva curled an arm around Amira and existed the room. When she felt Solito behind her, she angled her body to protect Amira and ran to the staircase.

Shots burst out but she didn't break stride. A shadow loomed up before her as she hit the top floor. She twisted as the man tried to grab her and brought her gun up, squeezing off a round. He fell back and she ran to the third room, shots echoing in her ear. Solito pushed them into the room and shut the door. Ziva went to the balcony and looked down. It was a straight jump down about ten feet to concrete that went out to the covered walkway. From there Ziva guessed they would encounter the lawn.

"How fast can you sprint?"

* * *

A/N: A reviewer commented on length and I agree. Part II will be up later.


	8. Wormholes, Part II

**Disclaimer**: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

Wormholes II

Gunfire hit the concrete just as Ziva rolled to her feet. She fired back as she ran after Solito. She saw the beady eyes of Amira's bear dancing in front of her. Her ankle hurt even more with the fall and she was glad she made the right choice. Solito was fast.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a man climbing onto the roof from the side left of the lawn. He had his gun drawn and made a beeline straight for Solito. Ziva picked up her speed, grunting with every footfall. She fired once, twice, and on the third shot the man fell.

She spotted Solito's sudden duck and came upon them at a low run. Solito pressed Amira's head into his shoulder and tilted his head down towards the lawn. There were about a dozen men spread out on the lawn directing fire into the house. Not part of the ops team. A roving spotlight swept over them and the lawn. Ziva checked her watch. 2100. The reinforcements were nowhere to be seen.

"Within minutes?"

Solito lifted a shoulder. "In a manner of speaking. At least we made it to the lawn in one piece."

"Amira needs to make it to that airstrip in one hour. If we sit here waiting, we're," Ziva yanked a hand across her throat.

"Well what do you want to do? I have a magazine left."

Ziva studied the roving spotlight for a minute. She touched Solito's arm and led him over to the right. They peered over into the dark branches of shrubs and manicured trees. Behind was the stone enclosure.

"The spotlight doesn't hit the outer edge of the lawn. If we stay close to the inside, we will come to a low point—I passed it as we continued north. From there we can circle down to the beach."

Ziva prepared to slip over the side when Solito grabbed her arm.

"This is a bad time to ask, but why are you here?"

Ziva frowned. "You are right—this is a bad time. Hand me the child when I am down."

It took them little time to make it to the dip in the stonewall. Ziva stepped carefully over the rocks, conscious of the growing pain in her ankle. Solito had Amira and was stepping down through the brush when he slipped. It was at that moment that a bullet cracked inches by her neck and hit the place Solito stood a moment before. Ziva immediately slid down, brought up the assault rifle, and fired in the general direction of the bullet. She heard a shout then saw someone fall out of the dark.

Someone grabbed her bad ankle and she pointed her handgun at the person's head. Solito looked up at her, his body turned inward to cover Amira.

"We're going to have to jump. I saw men coming from the north."

Solito slid further down and away until he could stand, Ziva following suit. Bullets ricocheted off rock near their heads. The drop was thirty-feet. The water was black and choppy.

"Amira," Ziva said and the little girl turned her wide eyes to her, "I want you to hold onto Agent Solito, don't let go. When he tells you to hold your breath, do it. I am going to be right next to you when we come out of the water, okay?"

Amira nodded. Solito had Amira straighten her legs and squeeze them together and wrap her hands around his neck. Ziva slung the assault rifle around her back and holstered her gun.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

Ziva looked at him. Bullets hit the rock and dust fell onto her face.

"I'm doing this…because I have to."

Solito gripped Amira and gave her a quick nod before jumping. Ziva took a deep breath and jumped. It was an eternity before the water hit her, stinging every cell. She inhaled water and was heavy. The water swirled around her, white and bubbly and dark. Her head throbbed. Indistinct noise rushed her ears. Tony pretended to work at his desk. He had on a dark blue suit and white shirt and black tie. He looked up at her and his eyes were dark and quizzical. _What are you doing?_

Ziva pushed her arms down and kicked her legs. It was an eternity before she broke through the surface.

* * *

"I don't give a goddamn shit what Leon Vance says, this plane stays grounded until I hear word about my granddaughter."

"Sir, manifest says five minutes ago we were supposed to be somewhere over Mexico City."

"You aren't even supposed to be down here and now you're giving me bullshit about _schedule_?"

McGee stepped in front of the pilot. Franks had a dead mean look in his eye as his attention snapped to McGee.

"If you tell me to calm down one more time I'll kick your ass up and down this strip."

McGee held out his hands. "Major Wheeler is right—we can't keep stalling. There's an alternate plan in place if Ziva can't make it."

"Alternate plan? Screw the alternate plan. You can take off, crawl back to that director of yours. I'm not leaving Amira."

Franks turned away but McGee grabbed his arm and pulled him around. "You think that you're the only one here who gives a damn Franks? Look at Leyla," McGee pointed at the cargo plane, "you think that crawling back to D.C. without a child, without my partner and with my other partner barely hanging on is easy for me? Wake up."

McGee let his arm drop and turned to the pilot. "Another ten minutes and everyone," he directed a glance at Franks, "_everyone_ will be on that plane."

Franks worked his jaw. McGee stared him down until the other man stalked to the boarding lift and began pacing.

McGee walked a few paces to the wild grass bordering the makeshift strip and released a long breath. The tension left his shoulders and he clenched his hands into fists every so often to calm the shaking. He was sure Franks would hit him. Sure that he would be on the ground. But he was sure that Franks would be on the ground too, with a possible broken nose.

He checked his smart phone again. Their signal was still offline. He rubbed the back of his neck. He should have stayed. Sent Solito in his place. Instead he let her play it safe for him. Now he had to return to D.C. and explain to Vance how they completely mangled what should have been a simple retraction.

McGee checked the time. 2206. Four minutes. His stomach dropped.

"Hey," Major Wheeler exclaimed.

McGee turned to him but Wheeler was looking down the landing strip. A black SUV with blacked out windows sped towards them, lights bouncing.

"Franks," McGee said but Franks was already next to him, gun drawn.

"Start the plane, Major," McGee said and Wheeler ran aboard.

The SUV approached at a dangerous speed. They raised their guns. McGee was about to yell when the car made a sharp turn and skidded to a halt about ten yards from the two men, dust swirling. McGee knew that maneuver. He threw up the last time she did it.

McGee lowered his gun and began walking when the driver door opened and Ziva stepped out. Solito exited from the front passenger side. Ziva was soaked through and pale when McGee finally got to her.

"Ziva," he said. She opened the passenger door and bent forward, coming out with a little girl wrapped in a blanket, clutching a black bear that saw better days. He noticed her heavy limp as she walked by him, past Franks, to the running woman who sprang from the cargo bay at the sound of a car coming.

Leyla stopped breathless before Ziva. They looked at each other and Ziva gently passed Amira into the arms of her mother.

"Thank you," Leyla said. Ziva said nothing. The cargo engines started. Wheeler appeared on the lift.

"Alright people, let's get a move on."

Franks led Leyla up the lift, sending Ziva a grateful glance but Ziva didn't acknowledge it.

"Agent David."

Ziva tilted her head to look over at Agent Solito. They both looked haggard, wet, and broken.

"Thank you for your help, Agent Solito."

"It was a pleasure, Agent David. Let's try not to do it again."

Ziva extended her hand and he took it. The hand was warm and strong, unlike her eyes. She looked away and he turned to McGee and shook his hand and said his goodbyes.

"Tony is on board," McGee informed her as they walked to the lift. Ziva flinched.

"Is he awake?"

"No, but his vitals have significantly improved."

"Good, that's good."

They climbed up into the hold and the doors raised and closed behind them, shutting out the night. Ziva watched as Solito disappeared, as Mexico disappeared and she felt herself shutting down. McGee led her to the front of the plane, where Tony lay in a secured hospital bed. An Army nurse and a doctor hovered nearby, monitoring the machines and scowling as the plane dipped a little.

"We're supposed to land at Mac Dill. They'll medivac Tony to Bethesda from there and we'll take a smaller plane to D.C.," McGee said.

Ziva sank onto a seat next to the bed and stared at the sheer whiteness of the sheets. She watched his chest rise and fall. _What are you doing?_

She rested her head on the bed next to his leg. His still fingers brushed her forehead. It was the coolest touch she ever got from him. She heard McGee say something and then somebody shifted her and something tight strapped across her waist, but it was all muddy. Everything was muffled except for her breathing and warmth. Her eyes closed in seconds and she slept, even when Tony woke early in the morning and ran a hand through her curling hair then over the side of her face.


End file.
